


More Than Just "Picky"

by bisexualdisaster221



Series: Awareness Fics [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: ARFID, Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder, Eating Disorders, Gen, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Queerplatonic Relationships, descriptions of food, picky eating, tsukki's mom is kind of a bitch to child tsukki, why are none of these actual tags, yama and tsukki aren't together but they're def not just friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25329775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualdisaster221/pseuds/bisexualdisaster221
Summary: Tsukishima hates food. For as long as he can remember, he's hated the very idea of eating. He hates the texture, smell, taste, temperature, everything about food. He has a few "safe foods" that he falls back on, but rice and granola bars alone are nowhere near enough to sustain him, especially not with volleyball practice getting harder.And without realizing it, Tsukishima's eating habits are getting worse.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: Awareness Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992742
Comments: 34
Kudos: 284





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So, by now, all of the chapters are up. I'm thinking about making a follow-up fic to this one where I write about Tsukishima telling the team, getting accommodations, and dealing with difficulties in his journey to recovery. Please let me know if you'd want that!
> 
> -Pat <3

“Hey, Tsukki, aren’t you going to eat that?”

Kei’s eyes flicked over the rim of his glasses to look at his friend. Yamaguchi blinked, lips pressing together sheepishly as he turned away. “S-sorry, that was out of nowhere.”

“It’s fine, Yamaguchi,” Kei sighed. He poked at the yakizakana on his plate, grimacing as the flesh peeled off the fish. He suppressed the urge to wrinkle his nose. He’d never liked grilled fish.

“Do you want it?” he asked his friend, subtly nudging his plate toward Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi looked hesitant. “But you’ve only eaten your rice! I don’t want you to go hungry.”

Kei snorted. “I’m not very hungry. I must be coming down with a cold or something.” Yamaguchi still shot him a skeptical glance, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m serious, you can have it.”

His friend smiled at him, although the action seemed forced, and used his chopsticks to scoop the rest of the yakizakana onto his plate. “Thanks, Tsukki,” he beamed, practically shoving the fish into his mouth. Kei’s face pinched in disgust as he wondered how the hell Yamaguchi (or anyone else, for that matter) managed to force down something that nasty.

Kei shook his head slightly, pushing his disgust aside. He took another bite of uruchimai and felt as if he could cry in relief. Rice remained one of the only textures he could stand, and it had no flavor unless something was added into it. Both were bonuses, in his eyes.

“I’m going upstairs,” he muttered, pushing his chair back to stand. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him as he scooped the rest of his meal into the trash, but he elected to ignore them.

“Kei, can you at least try to eat a little more?” his mother scolded, though the worried tone in her voice was not lost on her son.

“I told you, I’m not hungry.”

He huffed out a breath and removed his headphones from around his neck. He placed them over his ears, selecting a song as he climbed the staircase. By the time he reached his bedroom and flopped on the bed, he’d already started playing one of those weird English rap songs. He groaned into the pillow, feeling his stomach rumble. Ignoring the sensation, Kei closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift into an uneasy slumber.

“Hey, Tsukki, breakfast is ready,” a voice (too cheerful for so early in the morning) chirped right in his ear. A hand stroked gently through his hair.

“Yama..?” he muttered, turning his head so his cheek rested on the pillow. Yamaguchi hovered over him, his arm outstretched and a gentle smile on his face. Kei felt the hand carding through his locks stop to rest over his ear.

Yamaguchi grinned nervously. “Your mom made omurice. You didn’t have much last night, so she made something you like.”

Kei felt a wave of guilt wash over him. His poor mother knew all about his pickiness - she’d spent countless nights in his childhood yelling at him to finish his food, downright forcing him to eat at times. He couldn’t help but feel bad that she had to cater to his extremely specific tastes. Akiteru had never been that hard to deal with.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, pushing himself up. Yamaguchi pulled his hand back. Kei fumbled around, patting the comforter until he found his glasses.

Yamaguchi slid off the bed, reaching for his open gym bag and stuffing what appeared to be his team jacket into it. “Ah- it was late by the time dinner wrapped up. Your mom offered to let me stay.”

Kei blinked. “Hm. I guess that makes sense.”

“Come on, you’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry,” Yamaguchi teased, poking him in the side. Kei jumped, stifling what would have been a rather embarrassing giggle, and lightly shoved his friend towards the door.

“Alright, alright,” Kei grumbled, though he made sure to smirk a little at Yamaguchi so his tone didn’t seem too harsh.

Yamaguchi snickered and disappeared, slinging his backpack over one shoulder and his gym bag over the other. “Better hurry, or Akiteru-san and I’re gonna eat all of the omurice!”

Kei snorted, shaking his head. He was cruelly reminded of his decision to forgo dinner the previous night when his stomach twisted. A bit of nausea shot through him. He swallowed thickly against it and reached for the half-eaten granola bar that sat on his nightstand. He’d eaten the other half yesterday. It was common for him to wake up with unbearable hunger pains, and the little bit of nourishment helped suppress them until he could eat an actual meal.

He dragged himself to the bathroom, taking his practice uniform with him. He made quick work of brushing his teeth and hair, pulling on the team-issued shirt and pants. By the time he’d arrived at the table, Yamaguchi had already finished his meal. Akiteru, ever the slow eater, still worked on finishing his omurice.

“Tsukki! You actually made it!” Yamaguchi teased, handing his plate over to Kei’s mother. Yamaguchi hurried back to the table, plopping down in his typical spot and propping his head up with his hands. He leaned forward as Kei sat.

“Kei, do you want anything on it?” his mother asked.

“No thank you,” he muttered, mumbling a soft “itadakimasu” under his breath.

He picked up his chopsticks and began his daily ritual of poking at his food. He managed to choke down the egg and rice. Omelettes had a weird texture. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but it wasn’t particularly good either. The taste was alright. Not the best, but he could name worse things. His mother knew it was one of the only meals he would eat, hence why she made it so often. He guessed she didn’t know that he really wasn’t too fond of it. The rice did make a bit more tolerable though.

“Are you ready for practice?” Yamaguchi beamed, eager to start a conversation. “I heard we’re doing 3-on-3’s today.”

“Really?” Kei asked around a bite of omurice. He washed down the taste with a gulp of water, trying not to outwardly show his disgust at the aftertaste.

“Yep!” he chirped, “I overheard Suga-san and Daichi-san after practice yesterday. Hinata-kun and Kageyama-kun’s teamwork is abysmal, apparently, and they wanna work on coordination before next week.”

“We’re playing Nekoma, right?”

“Uh-huh. Their coach has been all over Ukai-sensei lately. It’s a little scary.”

Kei stared down at his plate, grunting out a noncommittal noise.

“Kei, stop playing with your food and just eat it,” his mother scolded.

He flinched, fingers gripping tighter around his chopsticks. His hand trembled, his lips pressed together. A single blink sent him back into a memory he’d rather forget.

“Eat your food already, Kei! It’s not difficult!”

“No!” Kei screamed, squirming away from his mother’s death grip. “I hate it!”

“I worked hard to make this! You’re going to eat it!”

“NO! No! I don’t wanna!”  
“Do you want me to take you to the hospital?! You’re going to get a feeding tube if you keep this up! Stop being ungrateful and eat your dinner!”

Kei sobbed as his mother forced yakisoba into his mouth. It was so, so disgusting. The noodles were too sticky and felt soggy and gross and-

“Tsukki? Are you okay? You kinda spaced out there for a minute.”

Kei blinked at his friend. He grimaced, noticing he was gripping his chopsticks to the point where they almost splintered under the pressure. He loosened his death grip.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, idly shoving more omurice into his mouth. The unpleasant memory lingered, the screaming match between him and his mother still clear as day even after ten years. How many nights had his mother wrestled with him to eat even a bite of food? Certainly too many to count, he supposed.

Yamaguchi carried a mostly one-sided conversation until both Akiteru and Kei finished up. Kei muttered a quick thank-you to his mother as he slid his plate into the dishwater, desperately avoiding eye contact.

“Come on Tsukki, if we don’t hurry up we’re gonna be late and Daichi-san’s gonna yell at us~” Yamaguchi tugged on Kei’s arm, practically forcing him out the door. Kei snorted at his friend and slid on his shoes.

“Ittekimasu!” both he and Yamaguchi called as they left. His mother’s response of “Itterashai!” was almost lost to the sound of the outdoors.

Kei shoved his headphones over his ears and scrolled through his playlist as he hopped on his bike. Luckily Yamaguchi understood his need for not talking and remained silent. Kei let out a sigh of relief as a quiet piano melody began to play, soothing the stress from the night before. His stomach had quieted down, although it still grumbled angrily. One single piece of omurice was definitely not a substitute for fifteen hours of nothing but yakizakana and half of a granola bar.

By the time he and Yamaguchi had dropped their bags in the locker room, pulled on their volleyball shoes, and made it to the court, they were already five minutes late for practice. Daichi shot them a stern look and ordered them to do an extra lap as a penalty.

“Alright!” Suga clapped his hands, his smile too bright for seven in the morning. “We’re gonna do 3-on-3’s! Hinata, Kageyama, Tanaka, you take the red pinnies. Tsukishima and Asahi, grab the blue pinnies. I’ll be on your team. The rest of you sit out until the next round.”

Kei gulped in a breath of air. A hunger pang shot through his stomach. He gripped the fabric of his t-shirt, glancing around to make sure nobody had noticed. No one was looking his way, except for Yamaguchi, but the black-haired boy seemed oblivious to Kei’s predicament.

Yamaguchi smiled at him, waving as he walked over to the benches. “I’ll be cheering you on, Tsukki!”

Kei smirked at his friend, just barely managing to catch a blue pinnie thrown at him. “C’mon, slowpoke!” Hinata shouted, already pulling his pinnie over his head.

Kei scowled at him, pushing aside the nausea crawling in his stomach. Asahi lined up to serve. Kei got into position, placing his hands over the back of his neck. His vision blurred when he looked up to face the other team. A couple harsh blinks cleared up his sight, but his head was beginning to pound. His eyes flickered up to the ceiling for just a second.

Fuck, that was a mistake. His vision swam and his head pounded even more intensely. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to ward off the headache-

Whack!

“TSUKKI!!”

“Tsukishima-kun!”

“Tsukishima??”

A quiet groan reached Kei’s ears. He shifted his head to the side. His vision was hazy and darkness creeped in at the edges.

“Tsukki? No no no, Tsukki, Tsukki stay awake-”

“What happened?!”

“Is he okay??”

“Let me through, Yamaguchi don’t move him, he could have a concussion-”

Another groan cut into Kei’s ears like a knife, and it took a moment for him to realize that he was the one letting it out. A pair of hands cradled his face, tilting his head so he was looking back up at those horrible fluorescent gym lights. He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he possibly could. His arm throbbed relentlessly when he tried to move it, searing pain shooting through the limb and forcing him to keep it still.

“Tsu- st- wake- fo- me-”

Another pair of hands suddenly appeared on his torso, twisting him gently so he was laying on his back. A pang of nausea shot through his body. He whimpered again. His hand shot out behind his head and latched onto the first thing he could find- a piece of fabric, slightly damp, yet familiar.

“Ts- co- on- op- your eyes-”

One of the hands on his face reached up to card through his hair, gently stroking at the strands. Kei found himself drifting away from the pain in his head and leaning into the only non-painful sensation he could feel. His eyes relaxed and his body sagged. He was drifting further and further-

A hand pried his left eye open, and a surge of pain shot through his head. His headache increased tenfold, and his vision blurred from the intensity of it. “Shh, shh, shh, it’s alright, Daichi’s checking for a concussion, okay?”

Kei gripped the fabric harder. His vision swam. The hand stroked through his hair again.

A blurry figure hovered over him, and a light shone in his eye. Kei tried to shut his eye, but the hand refused to let him. The hand released its grip and Kei’s eye flew shut, only for the other eye to be forcefully pried open. The light shone in that one too, sending another spike of pain through his head.

“He- as- on-cus-n-” a vaguely familiar voice drifted from somewhere above him. “-all- an- mbu-ance-”

The hand stroking his hair stopped. Kei tugged on the fabric, and the ministrations resumed.

The next stretch of time passed in a blur. Kei had no comprehension whatsoever beyond the gentle hands in his hair and the soft yet firm voices floating above his head. His eyes slid open for just a moment. A figure bent over him, their forehead pressed to his, and something wet dripped onto his cheeks from above. Pain radiated from his arm and through his head, although duller than before.

Then he closed his eyes and didn’t feel much of anything.

yakizakana - grilled fish  
uruchimai - rice; a staple in japan; served with nearly every meal  
omurice - an omelette cooked with rice inside  
soba - buckwheat noodles; typically served with peanut sauce and cooked vegetables; can be served cold [zaru soba] or hot [kake soba]

ittekimasu - a phrase used by a person leaving the home; translates to "I will be going now but do not worry, I will safely return"  
itterashai - a phrase used by a person directed at someone who is leaving the home; translates to "You will be leaving soon but please do come back safely"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukishima wakes up. Suga and Daichi are less than happy with him, and he gets a diagnosis.

Kei came back into consciousness slowly. His eyes felt heavy, so he didn’t bother trying to open them. He lightly ran his fingers over the material underneath him, feeling a slight scratchiness against them. When he gripped the fabric, it bunched up. So he was on a bed, then. Not his own, he noticed, his sheets were nowhere near that uncomfortable.

An incessant beeping sounded from somewhere on his left, piercing through his head and aggravating his migraine. He groaned and finally decided to pry his eyelids open.

Well shit, that was a mistake.

He squeezed them shut again. The room was brightly-lit with fluorescent lights, and the white ceiling above the bed only aggravated his pounding head further.

“Tsukki! You’re awake!” a relieved voice cried. Kei winced, and the voice quieted. “S-sorry Tsukki. The doctor said you’d have a headache.”

There was only one person he let call him by that name.

“Sh’ up, Y’m’g’chi,” he mumbled. His mouth felt strangely rubbery. His lips moved but he couldn’t control their movements that well.

He heard a sigh of relief. “Daichi and Suga are here too. Want me to dim the lights?”

Tsukki muttered a small “y’s”, and the light piercing through his eyes lessened. He peeled them open again. His head pounded less intensely this time.

His gaze shifted to the right, where Suga, Daichi, and Yamaguchi sat. He huffed and moved to push himself up, only to be ungracefully pushed down by Daichi.

“No. You need to recover,” the team captain insisted in a tone that offered no way to argue. Kei sighed and laid back down. He tugged his arm up and felt a slight pull-

“Don’t touch those,” Daichi warned, “you were dehydrated. It’s giving you fluids.”

Kei blinked up at him for a moment before he rolled his eyes. “I’m not dehydrated,” he argued weakly. The grogginess was beginning to wear off.

“Yes you are. Now stop complaining.”

Kei tried to cross his arms over his stomach - a nervous habit - but something hard poked at him through the sheets. “What-”

“Don’t do that,” Suga said gently, pulling his arms away from your stomach. “It’s a feeding tube. The doctors said-”

Kei’s eyes flew open. A feeding tube?! No, nonononono- he was past that stage! He was eating again! His mom apologized for those threats, he didn’t- he couldn’t-

“No, no nono no,” he panicked, his voice rising in volume with every word. “No, I can’t have a feeding tube, mom- mom said she wouldn’t, I can’t do this- no, no!”

“Tsukishima, it’s alright, calm down-” Suga tried to soothe him.

“NO! TAKE IT OUT!” he gasped, bolting upright. He threw off the covers, ignoring the dizziness crashing over him. His fingers scrabbled at the tube attached to his stomach, trying desperately to pull it out. He couldn’t get a firm grip on it, his fingers were too slippery from sweat and his vision was too blurry and his mind was racing-

“Tsukki! Don’t rip it out! You could hurt yourself!” Yamaguchi cried.

“NO! No, you don’t understand- Please, please take it out, mom said she wouldn’t put one in-”

“Tsukishima, please-”

Someone’s arms (he couldn’t tell whose) wrapped around him. He was pulled into a firm embrace, his face smashed into their chest. His arms were being crushed from the angle he was holding them at, so he was forced to move them to his sides to relieve the pressure. He choked out a sob and tried to squirm out of the person’s death grip.

“Tsukishima, it’s alright,” Suga said in a soothing tone. Kei sobbed miserably.

“No it’s not!” he wailed, pushing his face further into Suga’s chest. Suga sighed and pulled him closer. “You don’t understand-”

“Then help me understand. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.” Suga’s body shifted. “Daichi, can you call a nurse?” he whispered.

Kei felt more bitterly hot tears drip down his face. Normally he’d be embarrassed at being thrown into such a humiliating situation, but Suga’s embrace was so warm and welcoming and he hurt all over and he just wanted to go home. He couldn’t bring himself to feel embarrassed.

“M-y mom, she used to threaten to ta-take me to the hosp-hospital,” Kei sniffled, trying to tug his hands out of Suga’s hold. Suga seemed to get the message and loosened his grip enough so that Kei could bring his arms up to grip the older boy’s shirt.

“Why would she do that?” Suga asked.

Kei hid his face in Suga’s shirt. “I hate food so much.”

“I know. Yamaguchi’s worried about how little you eat. It’s okay to have an eating disorder, Tsukishima, nobody will judge y-”

“It’s not an eating disorder,” Kei cut in. “I just hate food.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Kei was about to answer, but the door creaked open at that very moment. “Someone pressed the call button?” a female voice asked.

“Ah- yes, I did,” Daichi piped up.

“Oh, good, he’s awake now. We were beginning to worry.”

Suga released his hold on Kei. Kei leaned back, wiping tears off of his cheeks. Suga helped him lay back down, and Yamaguchi stepped in, holding the hand that Kei didn’t have wires attached to. Kei squeezed. Yamaguchi squeezed back.

“Okay, I’m just going to take some vitals real quick, then we’ll get a doctor in here to ask you some questions,” the nurse smiled. Kei noted that the tips of her hair were dyed blue, and a quick glance at her lanyard revealed her name to be Ao Ito.

The nurse took vitals from the heart monitor at Kei’s bedside, jotting down information onto her clipboard before moving onto checking his other vitals. Kei zoned out during most of it, only coming back to his senses for a few seconds at a time when Yamaguchi would run his thumb over the back of Kei’s hand.

She fiddled around with the IV, checking the bag and shifting around the catheter to fit more securely. She checked the feeding tube, pulling the cheap hospital shirt up so she could make sure everything was in order.

“Alright Tsukishima-san, everything looks normal. You’re malnourished still, but the IV gave you some fluids. The doctor will be in to see you in a few minutes.”

She smiled at them and tucked the pen behind her ear before leaving the room.

Kei sighed.

He was going to be here for a while.

“KEI!!”

Kei’s eyes flew open at the sound of his mother’s voice- when had he dozed off? His mom burst through the door, practically flying into the room. Akiteru appeared nervously behind her, holding her purse.

“Kei, what happened?! Your coach called me at work and said you passed out during practice-”

“Ma’am, please, you have to keep it down,” a nurse said from the doorway. “This is a hospital. He’s been under a lot of stress, and it would be unhealthy for him to experience more of it.”

His mom nodded before turning back to him. Her eyes flickered between Yamaguchi and Kei, then down at their joined hands.

“I- I’m sorry,” she sighed miserably, “this is my fault for not noticing sooner.”

“It’s not your fault,” Kei grumbled, “I didn’t tell you.”

“Still, I should have noticed something was wrong. After all these years, who knew that we would actually have to put in a feeding tube, huh?”

Kei glared at her, and she sobered.

“I’m sorry, sweetie-”

“Shut up,” he muttered. “Why are you even here?”

“Why- I get a call at work saying that my son passed out at volleyball practice and was admitted to the hospital and you expect me not to come?!”

“Tsukishima-san,” Daichi cut in firmly, “Tsukishima-kun really doesn’t need you to scream at him.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Excuse me,” a voice called from the door. “Is this the room of Tsukishima Kei?”

All heads whipped around to the source of the voice. A middle-aged man stood there, holding a clipboard in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. He smiled warmly at the group and entered the room, setting the cup down on a table and approaching Kei’s bed.

“I’m told you collapsed at practice today,” the man- Kei assumed he was the doctor- said. “May I ask what happened?”

“I- don’t really know,” Kei admitted. “One second I was getting ready to play, and the next, I was on the floor.”

“I know what happened,” Suga grimaced. “Asahi was lining up to serve, and he accidentally hit you on the back of the head. We didn’t expect you to go down like that, so it was a little scary.”

“I assume you were already feeling dizzy and lightheaded, Tsukishima-kun?”

Kei nodded. “Y-yeah.”

“May I ask why?”

Kei gripped Yamaguchi’s hand more firmly. “I… hadn’t eaten that much before practice.”

“What did you eat in the 24 hours prior to the incident?”

“A piece of omurice, half of a granola bar, and some uruchimai,” Kei answered truthfully.

“Kei!” his mom scolded.

“Tsukishima-san, please,” the doctor held up his hand, scribbling onto his clipboard. “I understand this is difficult for you to deal with, but would you and the others head over to the waiting room please? I would like to speak privately with your son.”

The others nodded. His mother looked apprehensive, but Akiteru placed a hand on her back and guided her away. Akiteru shot a half-smile at his little brother and ruffled his hair before turning to guide their mother out of the hospital room. Only Yamaguchi remained, his grip on Tsukishima’s hand unrelenting.

“Would you please-”

“Yamaguchi stays,” Kei insisted. The doctor nodded, smiling at the two.

“You’re close, I see.”

Yamaguchi blushed, glancing nervously off to the side. Kei grumbled and felt the tips of his ears heat up.

“Alright, I’m just going to ask you some questions about your eating habits. I want you to answer truthfully. You don’t need to worry about me telling your parents, this is just so that we can get you a diagnosis and the proper treatments.”

Kei nodded. The doctor smiled.

The doctor flipped to a page on his clipboard and began asking questions.

“Do you have body image issues?”

“Not really.”

“Do you restrict your food intake on purpose for any reason?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess.”

“Can you elaborate on that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you restrict your food intake?”

“Oh.” Kei thought it over for a second. “Food is just gross. I don’t like eating it, so I avoid it whenever I can.”

“Why do you think it’s gross?”

“It just is,” he shrugged. “The texture of it, especially. A lot of food is just disgusting to even think about.”

“Do you binge or purge at all?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you eat a lot of food, then get rid of it, either by vomiting or by using laxatives.”

Kei grimaced. “That sounds disgusting. Food is already gross, why would I want to do that?”

The doctor shrugged, writing furiously on his clipboard.

“Do you feel hatred at yourself if you don’t restrict your food intake? Or, more specifically, do you feel a sense of relief when you don’t eat?”

“No. It’s painful to not eat. The only ‘relief’ I feel is when I don’t have to eat something gross.”

“And how long has this been going on for?”

“I guess my entire life.”

A spark of something - recognition? Inspiration? Kei didn’t know - flashed in the doctor’s eyes, and he flipped to another page.

“Do you have a diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder, ADHD, or Sensory Processing Disorder, or has your Primary Care Provider brought it up at an appointment in the past?”

Kei shook his head.

“Do you have sensory processing issues?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that your senses don’t function properly,” Yamaguchi interrupted. Both of the others turned to stare incredulously at him. “Like, lights and sounds might bother you more than they do other people. Certain smells or flavors might be too much, or some textures might make you feel gross.”

“Y-yes, that’s what it is.”

Kei thought it over for a second. Now that Yamaguchi mentioned it, he realized that yes, that was actually true. He’d hated wearing his elementary school uniform because the fabric was scratchy and made him feel gross. Practically every texture he experienced in his mouth was revolting. He hated the fluorescent lights in the school and the gym, and the smells were overwhelming sometimes. He wore his headphones all the time to block out overwhelming sounds.

“I- think so.”

The doctor nodded, writing for longer than he previously had.

“Have these issues been present for most if not all of your life so far?”

Kei nodded.

“Have you ever been called a ‘picky eater’ or been told to eat more at mealtimes?”

“Yes.”

“How much food do you normally eat?”

“I.. don’t really know. It depends on the day. Sometimes my mom makes something I don’t like and I just go hungry. Sometimes I make my own food and I eat more. But I usually don’t eat that much.”

“Have you experienced a sudden or unexplained drop in weight?”

“Yeah.”

“How much did you lose and how long ago did this happen?”

“Like.. a couple months ago, I think. It was maybe 6 kilograms, maybe 7, I don’t remember specifically.”

“And have you gained any of this weight back since then?”

Kei shook his head. His palms were beginning to get sweaty. Yamaguchi pulled his hand away and pulled Kei’s head in to rest on his shoulder. Kei was too tired to resist and let him do it.

“Do you take any supplements to make sure you’re getting enough nutrition?”

“My mom made me drink these protein shakes when I was little,” he answered. “And I had to go on iron supplements for a while. But I haven’t done either in years. Are we almost done?”

“This is the last question, I promise, then I’ll let you go,” the doctor smiled at him. “Do your current eating habits cause any interference with your daily life that prohibit you from being at your best?”

Kei blinked. “Uh, yeah, I think. I get headaches a lot, and nausea too. I’m dizzy a lot and it’s hard to walk without stumbling. I can’t pay attention in class, either. Or at practice,” he mumbled the last part.

The doctor nodded, clicking the pen shut and dropping into the pocket over his chest. “Well, Tsukishima-kun, I believe I have a diagnosis for you.”

“Really?” Kei perked up. He exchanged a look with Yamaguchi.

“Yes. According to your answers, you appear to have Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder, or ARFID for short.”

“What-what does that mean?”

“It means that you restrict your food intake based on disgust or hatred for food and not because you have body dysmorphia. Not to worry, it’s treatable, and with therapy and proper nutrition, you can lead a healthy life.”

“What does treatment mean? Will I have to go on medication or something?”

“Most likely not. If anything, your therapist may prescribe supplements. You’ll most likely use a mix of exposure therapy and a diet change to become healthier.”

“I don’t want to go to therapy,” Kei cut in, “I’m not depressed, and I don’t cut myself.”

“I never said you did,” the doctor explained calmly. “Anyone can go to therapy. I’ll recommend you to a few eating disorder specialists in the area, and you’ll be able to try them out.”

Kei pressed his lips together. Yamaguchi rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.

“O-okay, I guess.”

“Good,” the doctor smiled. “I’d also recommend checking in with your doctor about your sensory processing issues. You should read up on it once you get home. I think you may have Sensory Processing Disorder or Autism Spectrum Disorder, but only a specialist can make that diagnosis. I just work in a hospital, so I can’t diagnose you.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

The doctor left. The room was silent, save for the beeping of the heart machine.

“So. ARFID,” Yamaguchi said quietly.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Kei admitted, “my entire life, I just thought I was a picky eater. I didn’t know it was actually a disorder.”

“Well, now you know, and you can take steps to fix it,” Yamaguchi encouraged. “Should I go get your mom?”

Kei shook his head. “I don’t want to tell her yet. I’m tired.”

Yamaguchi nodded in understanding. “Want me to leave?”

“No,” Kei sighed, leaning his body against Yamaguchi’s. Yamaguchi’s hand came up to sift through his hair.

“Okay,” Yamaguchi whispered, and Kei could hear the fondness in his voice.

Kei allowed his eyes to droop shut, and he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to chapter 2! I've decided I'm going to include a third chapter because yikes, 3000 words was really pushing it for me. I wrote this entire chapter in under 2 hours and I think my fingers are going to fall off.
> 
> I included mentions of SPD and ASD because oftentimes, people with ARFID are comorbid with one or both of them. Since texture plays a major part in ARFID, it makes sense that people with sensory processing issues have a higher chance of having ARFID than the neurotypical population.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this, and please don't hesitate to correct me if I got something wrong! I used the DSM-5 to come up with questions for Tsukishima to answer.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> -Pat <3


	3. Chapter 3

“Do you have everything, Kei?”

Kei rolled his eyes, turning around to look at Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi grinned nervously, holding a bento in one hand and Kei’s backpack in the other. His mother stood in front of him, sifting through the hospital bag.

“You have all of your books, right?” she asked, rummaging through the bag’s contents. “Where’s the list?”

“Right here, mom,” Kei sighed, holding up a crumpled sheet of paper. He shoved it back into the pocket of his jacket. “And yes I have all of my books.”

“Good, good,” she muttered, smoothing out her skirt as she swung the bag over her shoulder. “I signed all the discharge papers, so we should be ready to go. Akiteru’s got the car parked out front, let’s not keep him waiting.”

Kei sighed again. Yamaguchi giggled.

The doctor - Kei had found out his name was Dr. Martin, which explained his European appearance - waved at them on the way out. “Take care, Tsukishima-kun,” he smiled as he passed by, most likely off to see another patient, if the clipboard was anything to go off of.

Kei nodded politely, keeping his head down. ARFID… was a tricky thing to come to terms with. He still wasn’t completely used to the label. It had only been two days since his official diagnosis. Talking to his mom had been quite the experience, to say the least.

”Tsukishima-san, your son and I have gone through the questionnaire, and I’ve diagnosed him with a condition known as ARFID.”

“Wh-what’s ARFID?” his mom stuttered. Kei could see the gears in her head turning. He turned away. Yamaguchi placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Is-is it dangerous?”

“In and of itself, ARFID is not dangerous. It’s very treatable. It’s short for ‘Avoidant and Restrictive Food Intake Disorder. It’s a type of eating disorder.”

Kei shrank under his mother’s shocked gaze. Yamaguchi rubbed his hand up and down his back in sympathy.

“K-Kei, you… have an eating disorder? Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“It’s not a stereotypical eating disorder,” Dr. Martin clarified, noting the tension in the room. “It’s been affecting him his entire life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mom, remember… how hard dinners used to be?” Kei asked, refusing to meet her eyes. “And how I can only eat a few things without gagging? That’s… apparently an eating disorder.”

“Yes,” Dr. Martin clarified. “ARFID is an extreme avoidance of food due to things such as texture, taste, and smell. It’s much more than pickiness, and often it leads to malnutrition and other complications. But we have a treatment plan set in place, and I’ve written down a list of specialists in the area, including eating disorder therapists. In the meantime, I’d recommend trying to come up with a list of Tsukishima-kun’s safe foods.”

“Also… um, apparently I need to look into getting screened for autism,” Kei muttered, cheeks burning up. “He said it’s common to have ARFID and autism at the same time.”

His mother nodded weakly. “I- Kei, I thought you were just a picky eater, I had no idea that… you were suffering this much.” Tears welled up in her eyes, and he could hear her voice choking up. “I’m so sorry Kei, I had no idea that you weren’t doing this on purpose-”

“It’s not your fault mom,” Kei muttered, clenching the sheets below him. “You didn’t know what ARFID was.”

“I was horrible to you, I threatened you with feeding tubes, I forced you to eat when you were screaming- oh god, Kei, I’m so, so sorry-”

Kei resisted the urge to flinch away when she threw her arms around him. He shot a look at Yamaguchi as if to say ‘help me, what do I do?!’ Yamaguchi giggled silently and returned with a look that Kei understood to mean, ‘Sorry Tsukki, you’re on your own.’

“It’s okay mom, really,” Kei said, awkwardly patting her back. She pulled away, sniffling.

“Thank you for diagnosing him,” she sniffed, turning to face Dr. Martin. He smiled.

“It’s not a problem, Tsukishima-san, just doing my job.” He picked up the clipboard and brushed off his scrubs. “Now, make sure you make that list, and look into getting an ASD diagnosis.”

“Tsukki?”

Kei’s head snapped up. “What is it, Yamaguchi?”

Yamaguchi pressed his lips together into a tight smile. “Akiteru’s here with the car.”

Kei’s brother waved at the trio from inside the car. Kei and Yamaguchi climbed into the back while his mom took the front seat. As Akiteru pulled out of the parking lot, Kei reached into his pocket to retrieve the crumpled-up piece of paper.

He read it for the millionth time. And he read it again. And again.

Uruchimai  
Plain Granola Bars  
Onigiri  
Chicken Nuggets  
Uncooked Broccoli  
Chicken Broth  
Plain White Bread  
Omurice

Was that really it? Was that really all that he could stomach? Kei pressed his lips together. ‘No wonder I’m so underweight,’ he thought, worry creeping into his stomach.

“What’re you doing?” Yamaguchi asked quietly, leaning over in his seat to peer curiously at the crumpled paper. “Ah- that’s…” his voice trailed off.

“Every food I can make myself eat,” he affirmed. Yamaguchi paled.

:”How have you survived this long?”

Kei barked out a weak laugh. “No idea.”

Yamaguchi fell silent for a moment, looking to be deep in thought. “Have you ever tried combining any of those?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Yamaguchi plucked the list from Kei’s hands, “you like rice, uncooked broccoli, and chicken broth. Why not pour chicken broth over some rice and broccoli? You’d get a lot more nutrition and it would probably taste good, too. Ah- you could even fill an onigiri with broccoli!”

Kei stared at his best friend as he continued to ramble off possible combinations. “Yamaguchi,” he said, interrupting his friend’s speech, “you’re a fucking genius.”

“Language!” his mother scolded. Kei ignored her.

Yamaguchi grinned, and the two made eye contact. “I know!”

Kei scoffed and playfully slapped his friend. “Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry, Tsukki,” he replied teasingly, poking his side.

Kei allowed himself to giggle, if only to give Yamaguchi momentary satisfaction with himself.

“I got you to laugh!” he cackled, leaning back in his seat. Kei stole the list back and shoved it into his pocket.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Kei muttered, turning away so Yamaguchi couldn’t catch sight of his rapidly-heating cheeks.

Maybe there was a silver lining after all. Only time would tell.

“So, Tsukishima-kun, how has our plan been working out for you?”

Kei shrugged. His therapist clicked her pen open and got ready to write as she always did.

“Pretty good, I guess.”

“You took my advice, I hope?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t know there was other stuff similar to rice.”

“Oh yes, there’s lots of types of small grains!” his therapist beamed, scribbling something down in her notebook, “quinoa and barley are very good, and they’re pretty close to rice. Plus they’re more nutritious.”

“Yeah. The quinoa is pretty good. My mom made it the other night. I’m not sure about the barley, though.”

“And that’s perfectly okay,” she smiled, “we’ll keep trying. You’ve already made so much progress. Have you been keeping up with your weigh-ins?”

“Yes.”

“And…?”

Kei sighed, slumping down in his chair. “I gained half a kilogram.”

“Oh! That’s wonderful news!” she wrote furiously, “Are you feeling any better than before?”  
He shrugged. “I guess.”

“How so? What’s changed?”

“My headaches are manageable. I’m only dizzy during practice. I feel a little less spacey.”

“I’m glad things are getting better,” she smiled, “as time goes on, I’m sure your symptoms will lessen.”

Kei hummed. He absentmindedly picked at the lint on his sweatshirt.

“I got a call from your doctor the other day.” She tapped the pen against her temple. “The results from your blood test came back.”

Kei sucked in a breath, fingers drumming against the armrest of the chair.

“You have an iron deficiency, also known as anemia, so we’re going to start you on some supplements.”

He nodded. “How long?”

She shrugged. “Until the symptoms start to clear up and your iron levels go up again.”

“Okay.”

She smiled and clicked the pen a few times. Kei winced at the noise. She stopped.

“How are things going with your other diagnosis?”

“You mean SPD?” he asked.

“Yeah. Have you gotten word back yet?”

“No,” he sighed, unconsciously flicking his finger, “but my doctor says it’s likely that I have it. He doesn’t think it’s autism though, since I don’t have a lot of the other symptoms.”

“That makes sense,” she reasoned, “I hope you hear back from him soon. SPD can be tricky to diagnose, especially at your age. It’s unusual that it hasn’t been considered before.”

He hummed. “I guess.”

“So, looking at your food journal,” she said, changing the subject, “it seems like you’re eating a bit more than other weeks. Do you want to try to up your count by a couple hundred?”

“Sure. But not too much. It’s hard enough as it is.”

“Of course. There’s a brand of granola bars you can buy at basically any convenience store. I forget what they’re called, but they’re unflavored and are fortified. You might want to look into getting some. I believe they’re fairly dense, but I think you’ll do fine with them.”

He nodded. “Okay. I guess I’ll go pick some up soon.”

“Good! I’m glad you’re willing to work with me on this.”

Kei hummed, turning to stare out the window at the cars zipping by while his therapist wrote out his meal plan for the week.

“Alright, here you go,” she smiled, handing his notebook back. He took a minute to skim the pages. A little more food than last week, he noticed, but he was sure it was doable.

“Thank you,” he stood, bowing, and tucked the notebook under his arm.

“Of course. Follow the meal plan and make sure to have your mom call us sometime in the next week.”

He nodded, opening the door, and stepped out.

“How’d it go?” Yamaguchi asked once he entered the lobby. His friend handed him his backpack and Kei dumped the notebook inside. He swung it over his shoulder, grunting at the weight of his textbooks.

“Good, I think.”

Yamaguchi smiled and held the door open for him. “I’m glad it’s working out for you.”

Kei shrugged.

“So, whatcha wanna do when we get back to your place?” Yamaguchi asked, falling into step to match Kei’s pace.

“Sleep,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. He hadn’t noticed how tired he was before.

“We have to eat dinner first, silly,” Yamaguchi giggled.

Kei blushed, staring down at the pavement. “Did my mom say what we’re having?”

“Chicken soup. She’s blending it up so you don’t have to eat the vegetable chunks.”

That… actually didn’t sound too bad.

“Alright. Sounds good, I suppose.”

Both walked quietly for a moment. Kei wished he had thought to bring his headphones. He hated being with someone in complete silence.

Suddenly, Yamaguchi shoved him. It wasn’t hard- just enough to knock him a little off-balance. Still, he stumbled a bit. He looked up and saw Yamaguchi break into a sprint, a devilish grin quickly spreading across his face.

“Race you back to your house!” he cackled, already a good distance away.

Kei bristled. Races were stupid and immature, he knew that, and yet…

“Stupid, wait for me!”

“Loser washes the dishes!”

“Not fair!”

“Slowpoke~”

“I am not!”

“Prove it! Slowpoke!”

Kei hurried to catch up, trying to ignore the stitch in his side and the backpack annoyingly hitting his back with every step. He was still wearing his school shoes, and he had to keep readjusting to make sure they didn’t fly off his feet.

Yamaguchi only slowed once he reached the front door of Kei’s house. Kei had only lost by a few seconds. He doubled over, a cramp forming in his side, completely out of breath, a little bit dizzy, and, surprisingly, nearly bursting with happiness.

His friend reached down to ruffle his hair. “Looks like you’re washing dishes tonight, slowpoke,” Yamaguchi teased.

Kei sighed, pushing up his glasses. He reached out to swat Yamaguchi’s hand away and straightened back up again. “Shut up, Yamaguchi,” he said, though not unkindly. His friend giggled, reaching down to grab his hand. Kei slotted his fingers through Yamaguchi’s, the mild annoyance at knowing he had to wash the dishes melting away at the contact.

“Sorry, Tsukki,” said Yamaguchi, opening the door with his free hand.

“Tadaima!” they both called, slipping off their shoes at the door.

“Okaerinasai,” Kei’s mother answered from the kitchen. She smiled at the two of them, throwing the dish towel onto the counter and brushing off her apron. “How’d the appointment go?”

Kei slipped his hand from Yamaguchi’s grip and unzipped his bag, wordlessly handing her the food journal. She nodded while she read, closing it and handing it back.

“That works for me. I’ll look into getting those granola bars. Why don’t you two sit down? Dinner’s ready.”

Kei found his brother already sitting at the table, a half-open schoolbag resting under his chair. Akiteru slipped his books into the bag once they entered the room.

Kei’s mother came in moments later carefully holding a pot of soup. She hurried back into the kitchen and returned with bowls, spoons, and a ladle. She dished up the soup for the four of them and one by one she handed them their bowls.

“Itadakimasu!” they announced in unison.

Kei poked at his soup, unsure about the new texture. He carefully lifted the spoon to his mouth and tried a bit.

“How is it?” his mother asked hopefully.

“It’s… good,” he answered, trying another spoonful. He nodded. “Yeah, it’s good.”

She beamed. “Yay! Another dish to add to the list!”

His mouth twitched into a tentative smile for just a moment. Yamaguchi kicked his ankle gently. He looked up to find his friend smiling brightly.

“What?” he grumbled, the tips of his ears heating up.

“Nothing,” Yamaguchi laughed, “you look cute when you’re embarrassed.”

Kei’s cheeks burned even more. “Shut up, I’m not embarrassed.”

“Look, look! His cheeks are red! You are embarrassed!” Yamaguchi cackled loudly.

Kei’s mother and Akiteru joined in the laughter, both poking fun at how red his cheeks were. Kei sank back in his seat, somehow blushing more intensely than before, and shoved another spoonful of soup into his mouth.

He looked up once the laughter died down. Yamaguchi still smiled at him, cheeks reddened, and reached across the table to flick his forehead.

Kei burned up at the action, but he couldn’t find any annoyance at his family or Yamaguchi for laughing at him. Instead, another feeling bubbled to the surface, light and bouncy - happiness, he supposed - and he knew that finally, things were beginning to look up.

Tadaima - said when one enters the house; translates to “I’m home!” or “I have returned!”  
Okaerinasai - said to the person entering the house; translates to “Welcome back!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished it! I was rushing a bit towards the end because I was ready for it to be done already. I hope you guys like it! Thank you for your nice comments!
> 
> -Pat <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Pat here :D
> 
> This is based off of my personal experiences with food! I have sensory processing issues and food has always been a bad area for me. I have a few safe foods that I fall back on, but for the longest time, I'd refuse to eat anything outside of those few foods. 
> 
> My mom used to force me to drink protein shakes and she'd yell at me to finish my food every single night. She put me on specialized diets to get my weight up even though I was literally 8 years old and I was only slightly underweight. She used to threaten to take me to the hospital and get a feeding tube if I didn't start eating my food. It terrified me and I'm still not completely over it.
> 
> I'm projecting my experiences onto Tsukki here. I wanted to raise awareness about how bad ARFID, SPD, and related conditions can be and how stigmatized they are. We're not "picky," as a lot of people like to say we are. We physically can't choke down most food.
> 
> I do not have ARFID, so please let me know if I'm misrepresenting it here. I'm projecting my sensory issues onto him in the form of ARFID, although I do headcanon him to have sensory issues as well.
> 
> I won't write too much, but please, take care of yourselves, drink water, get some sleep, and do your homework!
> 
> -Pat <3


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